


The Bluebirds Sang

by WhenIShipIShipHard



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Garage Band, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, M/M, Peterick, don't read tags to avoid spoilers, final warning to stop reading, its pretty cool, patrick has wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5890759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhenIShipIShipHard/pseuds/WhenIShipIShipHard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Patrick!" Joe yelled the second he walked into the room. His 'audition' was taking place in the small garage of Joe's mysterious friend's house. Said friend was turning around in surprise at Joe's exclamation, and the second he locked eyes with Patrick, the room seemed to freeze. </p><p>[•]</p><p>Patrick finally agrees to join Joe's band, where he meets Pete. Things are great, but Patrick has a huge secret that might ruin everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bluebirds Sang

**Author's Note:**

> hey! so I've been writing this for a while and then I got stuck at the end and it took me a couple weeks to finally wrap it up. it isn't as good as I wanted it to be but here it is anyways, I hope you like it!

"So what do you say?" Joe asked.

The two of them were sitting in a half run down coffee shop where Patrick worked, on a table in the corner, right next to one of the smudged windows. Despite its grungy look, the place had its charm, and Patrick absolutely loved working there. The people who stopped always came with a smile and a story, and that's what made him stay despite the fact that he was severely underpaid.

Patrick hesitated, tugging at his red work apron.

"C'mon dude, you can't just sit around doing nothing with your life. This will be fun," his roommate insisted.

"I don't know, Joe..."

"Listen, it's just a friend of mine, me, and you. Playing music and shit. It doesn't have to go any further than you want it to go. No one's gonna find out about you unless you want them to. Please, just come audition at least, please please please ple-"

"Alright! Just the audition. Now shut the fuck up."

Joe grinned. "You're the best, you are the greatest, you are my number one man, Pat," he stated loudly.

Patrick just rolled his eyes and scowled, pulling the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands.

"I gotta get back to my shift now. Don't want to get fired because of your sorry ass."

[•]

"Patrick!" Joe yelled the second he walked into the room. His 'audition' was taking place in the small garage of Joe's mysterious friend's house. Said friend was turning around in surprise at Joe's exclamation, and the second he locked eyes with Patrick, the room seemed to freeze.

He was gorgeous. Patrick had never really been sure of his sexuality, and had never been in a relationship before (by his own choice of course) to experiment, but he knew he was somewhat attracted to boys and girls.

But this guy, he left Patrick breathless. Short brown hair that puffed up at the top, deep chocolate brown eyes, tattoos running up and down his arms, black Metallica tshirt, and black jeans so tight they probably were illegal in 27 states.

He looked Patrick up and down and smirked. "You must be Patrick. I'm Pete. Joe's told me a lot about you," he said, strutting towards Patrick and extending a hand.

At this, Patrick gave Joe a panicked look that read _if you said ANYTHING to him about me_ , but Joe shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Patrick let out a sigh of relief and shook Pete's hand, smiling. "Nothing bad, I hope?" he asked lamely. He just grinned, unperturbed by the exchange between Patrick and Joe.

"Nothing bad."

They stood there for a second before Joe broke into the silence. "Alright you guys, we're here for a reason, you can have eye sex later."

Patrick blushed and glared at Joe, who just glared back playfully.

"What do you play?" Pete asked curiously.

Patrick returned his gaze to him. "Umm, drums, mostly. Also guitar and keyboard and a little bass and some trumpet..." He trailed off awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "Drums, though."

Pete looked impressed. "Do you sing?"

Patrick was taken aback. "I, uh, a little I guess? I'm not any good..."

"Oh please, Patrick. Cut the crap," Joe scoffed from the corner. "He's an amazing singer," he told Pete. "He just doesn't want to believe it."

Pete's eyes lit up. "Can I hear? I mean I'm sure your drum skills are amazing but we don't have a singer and I have another friend who plays drums so if you're any good at singing then..." He laughed a little. "Only if you want of course."

"I, yeah, I guess. Um." He cleared his throat and started to sing the first Bowie song that popped into his head, Space Oddity.

His voice was shaky at first, but grew stronger as the familiarity of the song boosted his confidence. After about a minute or so he stopped, scanning Pete's expression self consciously.

Pete's eyes glittered, literally. His face split into a grin that could probably light up an entire universe.

"That. Was. Amazing. You have to sing for us."

Patrick blushed. "I don't know..."

"Please, pretty please with pizza on top?"

Patrick couldn't help but to smile at that.

Joe made a noise of agreement. "Not the worst idea I've heard," he said.

Patrick hesitated. His stomach flipped. But this wasn't going to become an actual thing right? It would just be a bunch of guys jamming and making noise in a garage.

"Fine. I'll do it."

Pete grinned and jumped up from where he was seated and wrapped Patrick in a tight hug. He froze, hot anxiety building up in his chest. What if Pete felt, what if he, what if -

Pete noticed and stepped away. "You ok dude?" His eyes were full of concern.

"I'm ok, sorry, you caught me by surprise," he stammered, not meeting his eyes as he forced his heart to stop racing. Pete nodded in understanding, oblivious to Patrick's panic.

[•]

Patrick wasn't sure why he had said yes. Maybe he was feeling impulsive, maybe it was the glint in Pete's eyes or his blinding grin after he had finished singing. Maybe because he was tired of hiding, tired of living a half life.

Whatever the reason was, his decision kept him awake for most of the night. He tossed and turned but was unable to shut his mind off for long enough to fall asleep.

Patrick had always been deathly afraid of relationships, even just friendships. He was so afraid of rejection if someone _knew_. Joe had to crack through so many walls and defenses to get as close as he was now. It had taken years before Patrick was ready to tell him his secret.

Because Patrick, in fact, was part bird.

Part golden eagle, to be exact.

He was part of some experiment that his mother consented to, and it worked in ways that was never expected. After a couple years of regular tests and experiments, his mother had run away, taking him with her. She never gave a reason why, and he was too young to remember anything. He never pushed it either, but he had taken the hint that his 'abilities' weren't normal and shouldn't be shared with anyone he didn't trust. Because he had two full, beautiful, intact wings with feathers the same red gold as his hair. And he could fly, actually fly just like a bird. And he was sure some mad scientist out there would kill for a specimen like him.

Flying was the best part. It was so freeing, it made him feel so alive. When there was wind under his wings, nothing could bring him down, literally and figuratively. It was the only thing that truly made him happy, besides his music.

But it was also the bane of his existence, the reason why he only had two friends in the entire world; Joe and his mother. He was terrified of relationships and the intimacy of them, therefore he never had one. He was afraid that someone would find out about him before they had his trust, and he had theirs, and call him a freak before showcasing him on he tabloids.

He wasn't exactly sure how Joe managed to crack his shell, but he did and it was only after Patrick trusted him with his life that he decided to tell him about his secret. And instead of the rejection he was sure he would receive, Joe just grinned, gave him a hug, and asked if he could touch his feathers.

Patrick had nearly broken down right there in front of his best friend.

Maybe the reason he agreed to join the band was because Joe trusted Pete. And maybe Patrick hoped that he would be able to trust Pete in the same way.

[•]

Their first practice had gone fairly smoothly, the three of them decided to just jam to songs they all knew, and Patrick was surprised to find that Pete liked a lot of the bands he did. Sometimes while he sang he caught Pete staring at him, and when he noticed Patrick looking he hastily turned away. But when Pete wasn't looking Patrick couldn't help but stare at him too. His arms shone with sweat, and his tattoos seemed to dance as he got really into the song. Patrick felt like he was being sucked into a black hole, and he only managed to snap back to attention when he felt Joe's gaze on his back.

Joe took him aside after practice, when Pete was packing up his bass.

"You are completely into him," he said with a smirk. Patrick blushed but didn't say anything, busying himself with fixing his hat.

"And he's into you too, from what I can tell."

"Shut up, that's not even possible," Patrick said, but there was no force behind the words.

"You should ask him out," Joe grinned.

Patrick frowned, forehead scrunching up. "You know I can't do that, Joe," he muttered. He was suddenly painfully aware of his wings scrunched up underneath his oversized hoodie. Years of hiding them had gotten him used to the uncomfortable itchiness of shoving two full sized wings underneath large clothes, but it didn't mean he didn't hate it.

"I know you think you can't."

Patrick sighed. "I just met him today. And he can't find out until I trust him."

Joe shrugged in defeat. "I just hope it doesn't take him nearly as long to get through to you as it did for me to."

Patrick found himself silently agreeing.

[•]

The drummer was amazing. His name was Andy Hurley, and he was better than Patrick ever would've been. Patrick told him so, and he just grinned and said, "Well it's a good thing they made you a singer. You're amazing," to which Patrick had blushed and smiled.

This practice went smoothly, just like the first, and at the end Joe suggested they started writing actual music. Patrick had just gaped at him, because they had only practiced together twice and were they really ready for original music?

Pete seemed to agree with Patrick from the way he was openly glaring at Joe, but Patrick guessed it was for different reasons than himself. Although he wasn't exactly sure what his own reasons were.

Andy, however, just grinned and nodded at Joe. "That sounds great," he said. Pete turned his glare to Andy.

"Patrick?" Joe asked innocently.

Patrick hesitated. "I mean I guess so. What do we have to lose, right?" He let out a breathy laugh.

Patrick had a lot to lose, but they weren't going to become famous, were they? Even so, it wouldn't happen for a long time, and he had a lot of time to bail between now and then.

Joe grinned. "Pete?"

Pete glared and glared. He looked between Andy and Joe, as if they had betrayed him. "Are you asking me for my words?" he asked after a long silence.

Patrick had no idea what he was talking about but Andy and Joe seemed to. It was Andy who finally spoke. "Yes. You've only shown me a couple, but they are gold, Pete. With your words and his voice" - he made a gesture in Patrick's direction - "we could go far."

Pete glowered at Andy. "I don't like other people reading my words."

"It's up to you. But this could be amazing."

[•]

The four of them went for dinner after in a cute little diner that has seen better days. They had the best burgers and milkshakes in town, however, and as usual, it was completely full. After waiting in line for a good fifteen minutes, Pete managed to snag them a table.

"Order me a cheeseburger and a vanilla milkshake! And fries!" he called to Patrick before rushing over to the table before someone else could take it. Patrick couldn't help but smile.

After placing the order, Patrick, Joe, and Andy joined Pete at the table, where he looked up from his phone and grinned at them. Patrick sat next to Pete, who, it seemed, had no sense of personal space at all. In three seconds, he managed to scoot close enough to Patrick that their thighs were almost touching. Patrick was a little weirded out, since he had known this guy for about a week and had only met him twice, but he didn't mind as much as he usually would've. Pete seemed more like an overly large, overly affectionate puppy than anything, and it was hard to get annoyed by something like that.

The food didn't take long to come, which was surprising seeing how crowded the place was.

For a few minutes there was silence across the table, while everyone dug into their food. Pete was the first to finish, and from the corner of his eye, Patrick saw him openly eyeing his fries.

When Pete's hand started crawling towards his fries a minute later, Patrick rolled his eyes fondly and pushed them over to him. He grinned and happily munched on Patrick fries.

"Yknow..." Pete said over Andy and Joe, who were discussing some metal band. "it's been a while since I've tried the chocolate milkshakes here." His voice hinted at something, and Patrick looked at him, raising an eyebrow. Pete feigned a look of innocence.

Patrick snorted and shoved his chocolate shake towards Pete, who grabbed it and grinned at him before slurping away happily.

"Yknow..." Pete started again.

"If you ask for my burger I'll slap you," Patrick said with a laugh.

"No, I was just gonna say that I'm indirectly making out with you by drinking your drink." With that, Pete took a long, drawn out sip of Patrick's drink, looking him directly in the eye.

Patrick felt the blood rush to his cheeks. "Asshole," he muttered halfheartedly, and Pete just grinned.

[•]

The next time they four of them managed to get together to practice, Pete still hadn't brought any lyrics so they just jammed out to random songs like before. Each time, it got easier to play together, and with each practice, everyone got comfortable enough to improvise a little bit. And Patrick did have to admit, they sounded amazing.

He had never really sang before, not like this, and he was discovering new things he could do with his voice every time. And it felt amazing, he loved it. He mentally thanked Joe for forcing him into this.

After practice, Pete suggested going out for coffee. Patrick agreed immediately, but Andy and Joe exchanged a look before opting out.

"I have other plans today," Joe said, without offering any explanation. Patrick looked at him questioningly. "My mom called me over for dinner," he said.

Andy also gave some shitty excuse, and Pete just shrugged. "Guess it's just you and me 'Trick."

"'Trick?" Patrick raised his eyebrows.

"No?"

"No it's ok. Better than most."

Pete smiled, all teeth and sunshine.

[•]

After ordering coffee each (and a cookie for them to share) from the place Patrick worked at, they sat at the same corner table Patrick and Joe had sat at when Joe first introduced the band to him. Pete took a sip of the coffee, and moaned loudly. Patrick shifted, blushing slightly, pushing away images of Pete moaning in a very different situation.

"This," Pete said, "is good fucking coffee." Patrick laughed.

"I'm serious! I don't know why I haven't been here before."

"I work here," Patrick said.

Pete raised his eyebrows. "I will make sure I come here more often then. Good coffee, cute boys, what more does one want in life?"

Patrick's cheeks heated up. Pete just called him cute. _Pete just called me, Patrick Stump, cute_.

Patrick would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't attracted to Pete. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to date Pete, because he actually really wouldn't mind dating Pete. But.

He involuntarily gritted his teeth. Sometimes he hated his wings, his stupid fucking wings that got in the way of him leading a normal life. He was suddenly very aware of them again, scrunched up underneath his many layers of clothing.

All this flashed through his mind in a second. Without hesitation, he smiled and said "I could say the same thing."

Pete grinned.

[•]

"What time did they say to meet?" Pete asked. It was their fourth official practice as a band, a week after Patrick and Pete went for coffee. Patrick found it very easy to talk to Pete, which was surprising because he hardly opened up to anyone. Yet the conversation had flowed so well that three hours passed before they even realized it, cold coffees caste aside. Strangely, he found himself willing to tell Pete anything. Well, almost anything.

"Three o'clock on the dot. That's what Joe told me," Patrick said, huffing. It was currently 3:13.

"Should we call him? Or Andy?"

"Sure, I guess." Patrick pulled out his phone and clicked on Joe's name on the top of his recents.

It rang, one, twice, three times, four, before he heard Joe's voicemail tell him that Joe was currently unavailable.

"Asshole," Patrick muttered, causing Pete to laugh.

"Maybe we can just jam for a little bit?" Pete suggested. Patrick nodded. Might as well.

Patrick picked up his guitar and lifted the strap over his head. Pete did the same with his bass. He started checking the tuning of his strings, when he stopped and looked at Patrick uncertainly.

"Is everything ok?" Patrick asked, feeling his cheeks warm a little under Pete's heavy gaze.

"I... I brought some of my, yknow. Lyrics." Pete cast his eyes away, shoving his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. "I wasn't sure if I'd show you guys today or not but since the others are out, maybe we could work with some? They're not very good at all actually, they're not really lyrics as much as an outlet to the mess in my head." He shifted nervously.

Patrick then did something very impulsive, that he had never really done to anyone before except his mother and maybe Joe.

He walked over and wrapped his arms around Pete, squeezing for a quick second before stepping away hastily. "I'd love to see them, and thank you."

A strange feeling spread through Patrick. He would be the first person to see some of these, and the fact that Pete was trusting him with them caused him to fill with warmth.

Pete relaxed a little bit and shuffled around in the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a handful of folded pieces of paper, crumpled from being in his pocket. A few fell to the ground.

Pete started shifting through them, reading them before either shoving them back into his jeans pocket, or putting them in his hoodie pocket. Finally, his hands were empty and he handed the ones from his hoodie pocket to Patrick. There were about ten total.

"These aren't all of them, of course. I have more at home and on my phone and everywhere. It's just... start with this." Pete sounded small and young, and Patrick's heart ached to know what was going through his mind and to be able to fix whatever was troubling him.

Instead, he nodded and smiled at Pete before unfolding the first one.

_I'm a loose bolt of a complete machine_

He looked up at Pete in surprise, but he refused to meet his eye. Patrick read the next one. And the next.

_Would you mind if I sat next to you and watched you smile?_

_I'm good to go, but I'm going no where fast_

_I'm a stitch away from making it, and a scar away from falling apart_

And so on. After he had read all of them, Patrick looked at Pete again. He was fiddling with the strings on his bass, shifting his left hand up and down the neck but not making a noise.

Patrick felt a swell of emotion course through him. Affection, sorrow, amazement. These lyrics were good. Really good. But they came from real emotions, and Patrick had the urge to hug Pete and make it ok.

"Pete," he said. Pete looked up, eyes wary. "These are good. Really really really good, actually. And I have no doubt that I can work with them. We can make some real music with them, Pete. Good music." Patrick grinned, face a little flushed as excitement rushed through him.

Pete looked startled. "You really think so?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. Absolutely."

[•]

Andy and Joe arrived at 4:32. Patrick was screaming lyrics into the microphone, strumming his guitar along and partly in his own world where only him, the music, and Pete existed. Pete himself was jumping behind and around Patrick, missing half the notes on his bass line but putting on quite a show. Neither of them noticed that the other half of their band arrived until Joe laughed, presumably at something Andy whispered in his ear.

Both Pete and Patrick stopped short, looking up at them.

"Where the fuck?" Pete asked first.

"You guys are already here? I didn't think we were too late. It's only just past 4:30," Joe said innocently.

"You told us it was 3, asshole! And why don't you pick up the phone?" Patrick wasn't really mad, he had a great time with Pete.

Joe pulled out his phone and pulled on a surprised face. "I didn't see your call!"

Patrick saw right through his lie, but only shook his head and didn't push it. "Well now that you decided to grace us with your presence, let's play."

"Patrick and I decided to work on making some songs later this week," Pete piped up.

Andy looked up in surprise and said something for the first time since they walked in. "That's great! Just the two of you?" He sounded genuinely happy.

"For now. No offense to you guys, it's just..."

"Don't sweat it, dude. Whatever works for you," Joe said, exchanging a triumphant glance with Andy.

Pete nodded, not noticing. "So are we gonna play or what?"

[•]

Patrick rang the doorbell of Pete's house, and adjusted his grey fedora one more time, brushing a tuft of hair away from his eyes. His guitar case rested on one shoulder, heavy and familiar. He heard the knob turn, and he straightened up, smiling shakily. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't like he and Pete hadn't hung out before, but something about the intimacy of the inside of Pete's home rather than his garage made this time different.

Pete opened the door, grinning. He wore a tshirt with some band on it under an unzipped purple hoodie and tight ripped jeans, but somehow he pulled it off and made Patrick feel underdressed in his black cardigan and red tshirt.

"Hey 'Trick!" Pete said enthusiastically.

Patrick laughed. "Hey, Pete."

"Come in, make yourself comfortable. Do you want coffee or anything?" Pete ushered Patrick into his living room, and he tried to take in the entire room at once. It was messy but not horribly so, more in a comfortable way than anything. Black sofa, big tv, cluttered coffee table. A couple of paintings hanging on the wall. Pete's bass resting against the side of the couch.

"No, thanks." Patrick said before hesitating. "Actually coffee sounds good, thank you."

Pete grinned. "Sure thing. I'll be right back, have a seat." He left the room.

Patrick sat down on the couch, which turned out to be made of leather. After a minute of debating, he pulled out his guitar and strummed experimentally, still glancing around the unfamiliar room.

"Here you go," Pete called, speeding into the room with two mugs of coffee in his hands.

"Thanks," Patrick said, smiling gratefully.

"So... how are we gonna do this?" Pete asked.

"I'm not sure really," Patrick hummed. "Maybe you show me some lyrics or bass lines and I can play some stuff I've made up and we can see if we can stick some stuff together?"

"Sure," Pete said, shrugging.

The two of them worked for well over an hour (interrupted by random bits of conversation here and there that managed to pull their focus out every now and then) before they put together that could be the start of some song.

"Ok, let's see how this sounds," Patrick said, clearing his throat.

 _"You laughed off my affections_  
 _While I passed by your direction_  
I should have known from your walk, yeah  
It was the end of you"

Pete grinned and then started laughing. "It's perfect. I love it!"

Patrick couldn't help it, he started laughing too. They had actually written part of a song, and _it didn't sound awful_.

Suddenly, Pete wasn't laughing anymore. A strange look passed over his face, and Patrick slowed his giggles to a stop. Pete started leaning in, closer and closer, and before Patrick could ask what he was doing, the answer became obvious when their mouths met.

It was amazing. Pete's lips were slightly chapped, but the kiss was softer than anything Patrick has ever experienced. It was slow and hesitant and a little sloppy. It was perfect. And it was Patrick's first kiss.

When it was clear Patrick was kissing back, Pete made gave a small moan and shifted closer, winding a hand into Patrick's hair and knocking his hat off his head. The younger boy stroked Pete's face with one hand, and he tugged his hair in response, causing Patrick to gasp in surprise. Pete took this opportunity to gently push his tongue into Patrick's mouth.

Pete's other hand came up to wrap around Patrick's back, holding him closer. With that touch, Patrick felt the soft brush of his wings on his back as they shifted under Pete's arm. With a jolt, all the fear and anxiety built up in Patrick's chest, and his brain jump-started into action. His eyes flew open, and he pulled away, gasping, glancing around wildly. Pete gave him a questioning glance, but Patrick barely noticed.

"I, I -" Patrick didn't try to finish his sentence. He picked up his guitar, ignored Pete's hurt expression, and raced out of his house, not looking back once.

[•]

Patrick sat on his bathroom floor, shaking and sobbing. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have let that happen? Did Pete notice? Did Pete feel them? It was just a brush, he couldn't have. But what if? How could he have let him come that close to almost finding out?

Patrick scrubbed fresh tears from his eyes. He hated his wings. He hated them with a burning passion, he hated their existence, he hated the fact that they got in the way of everything that most people would call normal. But that was just it. He wasn't normal. And he never would be. He would never be able to lead a normal life. Unless he got rid of his wings.

He stood up on unsteady legs, mind whirling, and walked to to kitchen. With only a second of hesitation, he stripped off his cardigan and shirt, and stretched his wings, careful not to knock anything over. He looked at them in wonder, and reached behind him to run a finger along the edge of the feathers. Beautiful, long, golden-red feathers. Smooth and shiny, glowing in the dull kitchen light. Patrick's heart tugged for a second, and he longed to go fly away, up into the sky, leaving his problems down on earth as he soared into the heavens.

Pete's hurt and confused face flashed into his mind, and he gritted his teeth and made up his mind before picking up the biggest knife in the kitchen. This had to end. Now. He stretched behind him to grab his right wing as close to his spine as he could reach. He shuddered, letting a few more tears spill out, and the apartment faded into the background of his mind. He shut his eyes and lifted the knife above his head. With one last deep breathe, he brought the knife down behind him with a loud whoosh.

The pain he expected never came. Instead, he found himself falling to the ground and hitting it hard, losing his grip on the knife. He felt something - or someone - on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

"Ow!" he yelled, gripping his elbow, where he had banged it against the floor. "What the fuck?!"

"WHAT THE FUCK!" he heard the someone yell. Joe.

"I didn't know you'd be home already," Patrick gasped out, shoving Joe off of him and sitting up, shaking out his wings. Joe sat up to face him.

"CLEARLY. What the FUCK did you think you were doing?"

Patrick winced at the anger in his best friend's voice. "I-I don't, I can't-"

Joe ignored him. "I didn't think you'd be home yet, I thought you'd still be at Pete's, working on music. Instead I come home to find you in the kitchen about to _cut off your fucking wings!_ Do you have a fucking explanation?"

Patrick winced. "Joe..."

"No. Don't 'Joe' me." He looked at him and then pulled him into a bone crushing hug. "Fuck. You could've hurt yourself badly. What would've happened if I hadn't come home?" His voice cracked.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I won't do it again, I'm sorry," Patrick murmured. "It's just, I'm so tired of them Joe! They are getting in the way of me leading a normal life. I live in fear of anyone finding out, and it's not only affecting me but everyone around me!"

"Patrick. They are only affecting your life as much as you want it to. The only thing holding you back from a normal life is you. Not your wings."

Patrick shook his head, but didn't say anything, only clung tighter to his best friend.

"What brought this on?" Joe asked.

Patrick sighed. "I kissed Pete."

Joe pulled back from the hug in surprise. "You _what?_ "

"Um." Patrick was a little put off by Joe's expression. "I kissed Pete? Well, he kissed me first."

Suddenly, Joe grinned. "Hurley owes me $20."

"What the fuck?"

Joe just laughed and hugged him again, short but warm. "So what does kissing Pete have to do with your wings?"

"I don't know, I panicked. He touched my back and I, suddenly I remembered, and I just, I panicked." Patrick looked away, fighting back tears at the memory of Pete's broken expression when he left.

"Patrick. Do you like him?"

A tear slipped out of Patrick's eye, and he scrubbed it away angrily. "Yes. More than I want to."

"And does he like you?"

Patrick exhaled slowly. "I-I think so. I mean, he did kiss me?"

Joe snorted. "Then I don't see a problem."

"But-"

"Listen. I've known Pete a long time. And he's a good guy. I mean, he can be an asshole, but he's a good guy." Joe looked him in the eye. "Patrick, he won't do anything you don't want him to. If he likes you, which he does, it's obvious, he will do everything you tell him to, especially something like this."

Patrick raked a hand through his hair, disheveling it further. "I'm scared, Joe."

"I know. But you need to go back to him and fix it. Don't let this slip away."

Patrick quirked a smile. "Who would've thought you would be the one giving me advice."

Joe grinned. "Life's crazy, man."

[•]

Patrick skipped the next practice. He didn't know if the other guys met up without him, and he didn't care enough to find out. He knew Joe was right, he should talk to Pete and not ruin something amazing, but he just couldn't bring himself to. Every time he thought about exposing himself to him, he heart thudded and his chest grew tight. So he did what he did best: avoid.

After skipping the second practice in a row and mulling around miserably at home instead, he was surprised to find Andy at the door an hour after Joe had left for the practice.

"Andy?" he asked, heart jumping unnecessarily. He reminded himself that as much as Andy looked like he could kill him in a heartbeat, he was actually a very sweet guy.

"Can I come in?"

"I, yeah sure, I guess," Patrick said, stuttering.

Andy walked in and sat on the couch in the living room, looking around.

"Um, aren't you supposed to be at practice?" Patrick asked, unsure of what he was supposed to do.

"Pete thought you'd want this back," Andy said, handing Patrick his gray fedora, which he suddenly realized he left at Pete's house. He took it from Andy, squeezing his eyes shut as his heart clenched at the ghost of Pete's lips against his. 

"Thanks," he choked out. 

Andy nodded. "We cancelled practice. Pete didn't show up, Joe and I jammed for a while and then he went to go check up on him. So I came here."

"Ah," Patrick said, throat tight. _Pete isn't ok and its your fault Pete isn't ok and its your fault_ , he thought to himself.

"Pete's upset. I don't know what happened, and neither does he from the looks of it. I know you have reasons, but just know that you can trust Pete."

Patrick nodded. "Thanks, Andy."

He nodded. "Well, I have somewhere to be. I hope everything works out for you two, for everyone's sake."

"So do I," Patrick sighed, but Andy didn't hear.

[•]

Patrick swallowed. He couldn't do this he couldn't do this he couldn't he-

"I have to," he said out loud.

He raised a fist and stopped halfway there, swallowing and counting backwards from ten to slow his racing heart. Needless to say, it didn't work, and his heart felt like it was about to explode out of his chest.

Before he could change his mind and walk away, he brought his fist down on the door. He knocked twice and stepped away, fidgeting and looking anywhere but the door.

It opened. He heard a sharp intake of breath, and looked up rapidly.

Pete stood in his sweats and no shirt, hair disheveled, dark circles around his eyes. He was looking Patrick up and down as if he couldn't believe he was there.

Patrick forgot how to breathe for a second, fixating his eyes on a bat tattoo with a heart and a skull in the center, right under Pete's belly button.

"Hey," Patrick managed to get out, nearly choking. A wave of fear mixed with and intense desire to kiss Pete rose up inside him.

"Patrick."

Patrick winced at his cold tone. "Pete, please. I need to explain. Can I come in?"

Pete's expression crumpled. "Yeah."

Patrick walked into the living room and sat in the same place he sat when he had come over to write music. This time, instead of sitting so close to him that their thighs touched, Pete chose to sit in a chair on the other side of the coffee table.

Patrick swallowed and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, glancing around the room nervously. It was still messy, but not in a good way anymore. It was more like Pete couldn't be bothered to clean it.

Pete's gaze bore into Patrick like razor sharp lasers. Patrick shifted uncomfortably.

"Ok, well. Um. I don't really know how to say this and you're gonna think I'm crazy and a freak, just please, if you hate me after this please don't call me a freak. Because I know, and I don't need another reminder," Patrick said in one breath.

Pete's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and his eyes were worried. "What's going on, Patrick?"

Patrick exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. "I- I'm not, uh, entirely human?" He didn't open his eyes, he didn't want to see didn't want to see the hate and disgust that was probably all over Pete's face.

"Patrick, look at me." Pete's voice was strong, but Patrick just shook his head and whimpered a little. He couldn't do it, this was already too far, he couldn't say it.

He heard movement, and a suddenly two fingers were under his chin, forcing him to look up. He opened his eyes in surprise, and Pete was six inches away from his face, curiosity and confusion written all over his expression.

"It's going to be ok. Please believe me. I'm never going to hurt you."

The words were confident, and Patrick wanted to believe them as much as Pete wanted him to.

"I- I'll show you. It's easier that way." Patrick's voice was small and miserable.

Pete nodded and backed away a little.

Patrick swallowed and shut his eyes, counting to ten and back. Then, he slowly took off his oversized hoodie, hands shaking. From the corner of his eye, he saw Pete raise an eyebrow.

He counted to ten and back again. And then took of his shirt. All that was left was his thin white undershirt that did nothing to hide the bulge of his cramped wings. He tried to focus on how good it would feel to stretch them, and failed. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and his hands were shaking so much he could hardly get a grip on the undershirt.

Pete didn't say a word, but his eyes didn't leave Patrick.

With one last breath, he ripped off the undershirt in one swift moment, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. He then stretched his wings out to their full length, shining in all their red-good glory.

Pete eyes widened and his jaw fell open. Patrick heard the quiet gasp.

"Please please please don't turn me into a lab or something, please, the only people who know are my mom and Joe and now you but please don't hurt me," he begged, his eyes burning with tears.

Pete didn't say a word. He slowly got up and walked over to Patrick, hand hovering above the feathers of his right wing.

"Can I...?"

Patrick nodded hesitantly.

Pete slowly touched the sleek feathers, stroking them lightly. Patrick would've melted into a puddle if his anxiety level wasn't so high.

"'Trick..." Pete whispered after a few seconds, and Patrick braced himself for whatever was coming next. "They're beautiful. You're beautiful. Can I kiss you?"

Patrick looked up at him in shock. He didn't hate him? He wasn't going to turn him in? He wanted to kiss him?

"I- yes," he stuttered, and suddenly, Pete's mouth was on his. Patrick moaned and pulled Pete down onto the couch, shifting until Pete was propped up on his elbows above him, careful not to crush his wings and not breaking the kiss once. He wrapped a hand around Pete's neck and tugging he ends of his hair. The other hand slowly started tracing a line down to his lower stomach.

Pete's mouth was on his, soft and rough at the same time, warm and cold, smooth and sloppy. Pete didn't hate him for who he was.

When the initial heat lowered, the two of them laid there cramped on the small couch. Pete was stroking Patrick's wings, and occasionally stretching up to kiss him softly.

"I like you a lot," Pete murmured.

Patrick's heart fluttered. "I like you too. A lot."

Pete grinned against Patrick's mouth as he kissed him again.

[•]

"It's just around here, I promise," Patrick said. He turned right, and the dirt road became a little less road and a little more dirt. Pete changed the song.

"Hey! That was a good one!" Patrick whined.

"Yes but you said we're almost there and this is a better one." Pete grinned devilishly.

Patrick laughed, unable to help himself.

The road, which had been becoming more vegetation than actual dirt, was gone completely.

"Where the fuck are we?" Pete asked, looking around the green plain dotted with trees here and there. There were no living things in sight, and the only thing that moved was a slight, cool breeze.

"This is where I come when I need to completely let go. Come on, I'll show you." Patrick jumped out of the car, shutting down the engine, and Pete was close behind him.

"We have to walk a little bit, but it'll be worth it. My car can't go any farther," Patrick explained, grabbing Pete's hand.

Pete nodded and kissed him briefly, making him smile.

They walked in a comfortable silence while Patrick thought about the time he had first met Pete in his garage, just over four months ago. Pete had brought so much to his life, for the first time Patrick trusted someone he hadn't known for years, for the first time someone had managed to break into Patrick's think, unbreakable shell, for the first time he was happy, for the the first time he was in love.

Wait.

He stopped in his tracks.

"Is everything ok?" Pete asked, brow furrowing in concern.

Patrick forgot how to talk for a second.

"I-I." He cleared his throat, heart pounding. "I think I love you," he whispered, looking up at his face.

Shock was evident on his face. Patrick opened his mouth to say something else, but then Pete's mouth was on his, cutting him off.

"Fuck-" Kiss. "Patrick-" Kiss. "I love you too." Kiss.

"You do?" Patrick murmured.

"Yes, I do, I do I've been wanting to say it for so long, I love you."

Patrick laughed, joy filling him up. He reached up and wound his arms around Pete's neck to kiss him hard. He was happy. For the first time in his life, he was truly happy.

"Come on, we're almost there," he said, unable and unwilling to wipe the smile off his face.

His heart was lighter than it had ever been.

[•]

"Here we are," Patrick said, slowing to a stop. He looked at Pete, who was just gaping in wonder.

The two of them stood on the edge of a cliff, literally. The beautiful grassy plain suddenly broke off, and at least fifty feet down, a river rushed between lush, green ferns. White and yellow flowers dotted the land; the whole place looked like it came right out of a fairytale. 

"What is this place?" Pete asked, awed.

"The sole reason I moved here. Well, not really. But this was a huge part of it." Patrick said, voice clear and free. "Are you ready for a demonstration?"

Pete nodded. "What're you demonstrating though?" he asked, confused.

Patrick grinned cheekily. "You'll see."

In one fluid motion, he removed off his sweatshirt. He didn't need it at all, it was actually quite warm out, but he wanted this to be a complete surprise for Pete. Because he was wearing one of the few shirts he owned that had two large slits cut into the back, allowing his wings to move freely behind him. He stretched them, enjoying the feel of the slight breeze ruffling his feathers.

Pete still hadn't said a word, his expression just grew more and more surprised. Patrick laughed a little. He leaned in very close to Pete's face, stroking one hand down his left cheek.

"I love you," he breathed, before kissing him once, hard and fierce, and then throwing himself off the cliff.

"Patrick! Fuck!"

He heard Pete's scream, and felt bad for about a second. Maybe some warning would've been better.

Before the thought could fully register, Patrick snapped his wings out, like he had some hundreds of times before. The wind carried him up, and he beat them a few times before hovering, high above Pete.

Then he let himself fall again, feeling the drop of his stomach and the rush of wind in his hair. This time, he swooped around in circles, laughing loudly. Pure joy was filling him up all the way. He felt so free, so light, he felt like a bird, soaring up in the sky without a care in the world. He _was_ the bird in the sky.

After a minute, he dropped back down and landed next to Pete, seeing his face clearly for the first time. Pete's eyes were glowing with emotion, love, happiness, excitement. He rushed over to Patrick and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tight and then leaning back to kiss him on the lips.

"That was amazing 'Trick, you scared me at first but then your wings, you can actually fly! That was amazing, I love you, I love your wings, I love you," he rambled.

Patrick only laughed and kissed his nose.

"Take me," Pete said after a moment.

"What?"

"Take me. Please! It looked so fun, I want to feel what you felt. As much as I can. You can carry me. I'm not that heavy!" Pete begged.

"I don't know... I've never done this before, what if it's too much weight, I don't want to hurt you," Patrick said hesitantly.

"You won't, it'll be amazing I know it."

Patrick weighed the consequences. It might work, he just wouldn't be able to go too high or for very long.

"Please 'Trick!"

Patrick sighed. "Fine. But only for a little bit ok?"

Pete grinned and nodded eagerly like a puppy. Patrick smiled.

"This could end very badly."

"I doubt it."

Somehow they managed to find a good position, with Pete clinging to Patrick like a koala.

"This is not going to work, Pete!" Patrick protested.

"Yes it is!" he screamed back.

Patrick refused to jump off the cliff like he had done when going by himself, as much as Pete had begged him. Instead he just tried taking off while standing.

"When I say three, jump as high as you can and wrap your legs around me," Patrick instructed.

"Got it," Pete said, sounding like an excited kid on Christmas.

"One, two, THREE!" Patrick yelled, jumping off the ground at the same time as Pete. Mustering all his strength, he flapped once, twice, three times, strong heavy strokes that pulled at his muscles.

But it worked.

The were off the ground, granted only about five feet, but it was still something. Pete whooped.

"Pete, you are heavy as fuck!" Patrick yelled, wincing at the pull of his muscles.

"Hey!" he protested half-heartedly.

They hovered for a second before it was too much for Patrick. He attempted to land on his feet for both his and Pete's sake, and managed not to crash completely before collapsing to the ground.

"That," he panted. "was not easy."

Pete laughed and started jumping and skipping around Patrick, who had not regained the energy to sit up.

"That was AMAZING!" he yelled, laughing hard and throwing his hands in the air. He spun around in fast circles before collapsing next to Patrick.

"Thank you. I love you," he said rolling on top of Patrick and kissing his jaw, soft and sweet.

"I love you too. Come here." He grabbed the back of Pete's neck and pulled him down on top of him, kissing him hard on the mouth. "I love you too," he murmured against his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> so this was basically inspired by the maximum ride series (which I haven't read in years, but for some reason this popped into my head). I'm sure there are others similar to it out there, so I hope this was good. thanks for reading! if there's any big spelling/grammar mistake, let me know, and also tell me what you think!


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